


writing

by dominique012



Category: Original - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-16
Updated: 2006-10-16
Packaged: 2018-01-18 06:58:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1419032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dominique012/pseuds/dominique012





	1. Chapter 1

Another piece of writing just for fun. A fairly short piece looking at the craziness that can be family gatherings.

The place is wall-to-wall kids. As usual. Her own kid toddles ahead, "Yayayaya!"

Grinning, she picks her way between nieces and nephews, Lego towers and cars and dolls and teddies. _Finding Nemo_ blares throughout.

Betty emerges from the noisy kitchen where most of the adults have congregated. A cacophony of gossip and clattering.

"Hi, love. Go on in and have a cup of tea. I just made a pot. I'm just going to wake Jamie. He fell asleep as soon as we got home. How much sleep does he need?" Then Betty's up the stairs and gone, no response needed.

She nods to the empty foyer. Walks into the kitchen where her daughter is somehow already devouring a slice of cheese. Smiles, greetings, questions.

She walks over to the teapot. The conversations continue around her. Loudly.

"I told him that I couldn't do it for less than 200…"

"Oh, just have a piece. I already cut it…"

"What was that guy's name again? Not the tall one, the other one, with the shop…"

She pours herself a cup. Antioxidants, good for...something.

"You're still looking a bit pale." The sister-in-law. The blunt one.

She nods, "That stomach bug. I think it's…"

"Oh! Don't tell me! Every kid at school's got it, and everyday we just get these letters about hygiene and staying at home, and it's been going on for weeks. "And she continues. School canteen. Vomiting. And so forth.

Right. Nod. Drink your tea. No response needed.

He enters the kitchen, a nephew slung over his shoulder, screeching. Sister-in-law nods in his direction, "There's your wandering man."

The cheese monster looks up "Daddy!"

"Hey, monkey. How are you? How was the shop?" He looks over, _hello and I love you_ with a tilt of his head.

She smiles, relieved to see him.

The black sheep of the family.

Thank God.

"Your wife's got the stomach bug, the one that's making all the kids at Mickey's school sick."

She sighs. For God's sake. Surely, she can tell him herself.

He nods. "Sure…it's going around." He grins at her, knowing she's exasperated.

Betty returns to greet her son. "Hello, how are you? You look tired. Did you take those vitamins I gave you?"

He nods absently, "Yeah, I took them. But I ran out."

"Oh! I've got heaps. Boxes of them. That nice doctor gave us boxes of them..." Betty's off again, rummaging in the pantry.

She approaches him, and perhaps he sees the desperation in her eyes. He lowers the nephew onto the floor and she hugs him, leaning in to kiss him on the side of the neck, and position her mouth right next to his ear.  
She realizes that it's not the best time or place. But it's just one more voice, strand of conversation in the crazy kitchen. And she needs to get it out. And he's listening.

Whispers. In a rush. "It's not a stomach bug, it's a baby, and I don't mean to freak you out, but I'm pregnant, and that's why I’m sick." She pulls away and smiles. A sort of message that she's ok.

His composure is admirable. Eyes don't leave hers. "Sorry, Mum? Yeah…I'll have a cup. Yep, and those vitamins. And then we gotta go."  



	2. random piece, not planned, not going anywhere

I focused on dialogue and pace in this one. I am loving writing more.  
  
He drummed his fingers on the kitchen table, looking idly around the room. "A year ago", he said, "I wouldn't have talked with anyone."  
"Well…" His companion's voice was muffled as it drifted up from below. She was crouched next to the table, searching through a large box full of old files and papers. "What's your option, just repress the most painful thing that's ever happened to you? You know what you'll have at end of your life? A big, powerful, painful memory and not a lot else. Better to talk, then you can move on."  
He sighed. He knew this. But it was a question of immediacy. Of coping with the day to day. Moving on? How did one cope while moving on? What stopped the pain and the fear the doubt? At the time, squashing it all down into himself had been his only option for survival.  
"So," she began, standing and brushing herself off. The boxes were dusty. 'Your brother was killed…"  
"By my mother, yes." He glanced off to his right, avoiding her eyes. He focused on a sad, brown little plant on the window sill. "She was depressed. She-" He stopped and met her eye. She was looking intently at him, her gaze unwavering. She was so bloody blunt. Unlike everyone else, she had never tiptoed around him, trying to be sensitive. She was blunt and direct. Matter of fact.  
Seeing him falter, her look softened. "Look, I know you don't want to talk about it. Every inch of you is screaming 'go away'. The thing is that we're here. We're already talking. You asked me, remember? And even though I know you'd rather poke your eye out, I think you really want to talk and I think my part in all this is to make sure you do and help you out when you feel like you can."  
He nodded. "I know. And even though it's weird I'm glad you're…persistent."  
She grinned.  
He went on, "I guess that's why I asked you. Because I knew you would be. I’m just fighting myself."  
She regarded him for a moment and then grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair, "Let's go out".  
He looked with puzzlement around the kitchen, at the big wide table and the two coffees and the plate of biscuits, their setup for talking. "What about…"  
"Yeah, I think maybe we need a distraction. Maybe some other voices, some car alarms going off. You might feel less confronted with a bit of other stuff going on around us."  
He nodded and shouldered his bag. "Ok then," he said, "Where to?"  



End file.
